


There is a light that never goes out

by PloKoon



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AU, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drunken Confessions, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Jonsa Week 2019, Love Confessions, Mutual Pining, Past Relationship(s), Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:20:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21584425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PloKoon/pseuds/PloKoon
Summary: Strictly speaking it wasn't a summer fling, but whatever the unnamed thing was, it settled deeper than they expected it to.When the autumn comes around Jon has to leave for college and all that's left between them is miles upon miles of silence, it all hurts too much and it's better to just forget about it, right?And they do, as well as they can.For nine years they ignore what happened, go about their lives, their jobs, meet new people, but somehow never seem to find what they're looking for.And when the stars align and they find themselves alone one fateful winter night it's impossible to let the memory of whatever it was rest any longer. Old love never rusts, isn't that how the saying goes?Written for Jonsa week, Past ~ Present ~ Future.(Slow publish but here we are).As always, the truth is in the tags.(Title shamelessly stolen from The Smiths)
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 18
Kudos: 84
Collections: JonsaWeek2019





	There is a light that never goes out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [israfel00](https://archiveofourown.org/users/israfel00/gifts).



> Written for Jonsa week, day 1, Past ~ Present ~ Future.
> 
> A special thank you to israfel00 for staying with me this long.
> 
> And if there's someone out there waiting for updates on my other stories, hey there, I'm still alive and am working on updates. Thank you for your patience.
> 
> ❤︎

When Arya had finally decided to come home from her study tour of half the world she’d thrown a housewarming party that almost made them forgive her for the time she’d spent away.

_Almost._

And it was just before 2 AM on the evening, (or, well, morning), of said party that Sansa felt she needed to get away from her drunken friends and relatives, desperately craving some fresh air and personal space.

She’d managed to make her escape to the veranda, expecting to find it empty, but Jon had apparently come up with the same idea and so there he was, gazing out at nothing in particular like some kind of adorable parody of himself.

But _of course_ he would be out here. Arya had gone off with Gendry, Robb and Theon were being their best obnoxious selves and in any case it was common knowledge that Jon really didn’t like crowds.

The door closed behind her with a low whining noise and he looked up from his phone, tucking it into his back pocket when he realized it was her.

“Mind some company?” She took out a cigarette and he shrugged a response, offering her his lighter.

"You don't smoke." But he lit it for her all the same.

"I do when I'm drunk. Don't tell Robb." He let out a sigh and shook his head at her.

No, Jon would not tell Robb.

It was late October and the cold had sunk its teeth deep into Winterfell but nevertheless, there they stood, two shivering idiots too lazy to go back inside for their coats. She blew a cloud of smoke his way.

“You always nagged me about that.” He gave her a crooked smile and pulled out one of his own. “Hypocrite.” She grinned back at him.

“So sue me.”

“I just might.” The spark of the lighter cut through the darkness around them for although the sky was scattered with stars the moon was yet to come out. The night was perfectly still.

They stood there for a while and took it in, looking at each other the way old friends do. Quiet bonding with a hint of nostalgia and tobacco.

_Pleasant._

“She’s the last to come home.” And there was a small, contented sigh at the end of his sentence that Sansa felt down to her very bones. 

_“Finally.”_ They shared a smile and a moment of comfortable silence. “We’re meant to be in the same place, always felt unnatural to be apart. Though I’m so very proud of her.”

“You should probably tell her that.”

“And never hear the end of it?” His smile grew wider.

_“Honestly_ Sansa, it isn’t really home without the two of you bickering.” Her hand made a slight, sweeping gesture.

“As with your brooding.” And he had the decency to feign a little bit of embarrassment.

“I suppose I had that coming...”

“It _is_ rather endearing.”

There was the slightest fluttering of his eyelashes as he momentarily looked away and Sansa was pretty sure he was blushing, even if the dark concealed it. Yes, endearing was the word.

 _Drunk Jon was_ _cute as hell._

She realized she’d never have said it had she been sober and the tiniest of alarm bells went off somewhere in her mind, but she waved it away.

“Can I quote you on that?” He took another drag and she thought he seemed a little nervous through the attempted nonchalance.

“Absolutely.”

She’d smoked too quickly and started pulling out the pack again but her inebriated brain made her pause. It struck her that he was attempting, nay, _succeeding_ at making smalltalk with her.

He really had to be _very_ drunk.

She took out another cigarette.

“Would you?”

“Sure.” And three failed attempts later Jon was cursing the wind as Sansa, (ever helpful), giggled at him. “Here.” He handed her the lighter, moved in close and put his hands around hers. “This is ridiculous.”

The heat radiating from his skin made her realize just how cold she was, and in that brief moment she looked up at him everything about him seemed so… No, better not go there. Weren’t their faces a little too close?

From her memory came a whisper that the last time they’d been this close was a lifetime ago, it had been the most beautiful evening of that summer and Robb and him were soon going off to college. How old had she been, sixteen?

_Back when they still spoke to each other._

The flame kept steady and his gaze lingered on her as he pulled away. His voice brought her back to reality and when he spoke it was softer than before.

"Do you ever miss King’s Landing?" Back to smalltalk. Whatever had been playing through her head paused and she answered without skipping a beat.

_"Never.”_ Her exhale rose with a sharp gust of wind. “Do you miss Castle Black?"

"Never." Another silence, not quite as comfortable as the last.

It had been the final summer before they all, one by one, left Winterfell to explore the world to supposedly prove something to themselves. The fact that every single one of them had decided to return showed how well that had gone, though they rarely brought it up. They didn’t really have to.

And they’d all been so close back then… Maybe there was a chance to restore some of what had been lost now that they were home again?

"Do you-” She searched her cluttered mind for a different topic “-Do you suppose we're very different now?" Jon threw the butt in the snow and put his hands in his pockets.

"In a good way, I hope."

“Hm.” There was a faint tint of lipstick on her white filter. "You used to be so shy." And honestly, she wasn’t sure if she’d said it more to herself than him but he let out a low, sweet laugh that caught her very much off-guard.

_Sweet._

The word echoed on.

_Go away._

"No, I still am." She cocked her head to the side, willing her mind to silence.

"Not right now." He ran a hand through his hair, ever smiling.

“Sansa, I cannot overstate just how unsober I am." And for the briefest of moments _he looked away again,_ though when he turned back to her he was _still smiling_ and all she could do was return it. _Oh for the love of-_

"Me too."

“Yeah, or you wouldn’t be smoking, or how was it?”

“Mhm.” She drew a deep breath but the icy air did nothing to clear her head. “Jon?”

“Yes?” Her hands felt numb by now. 

“How drunk are we?” He leaned back against the wall, close enough for their shoulders to touch and for some reason it annoyed her. They rarely made any physical contact, with their history it had been a very conscious choice on her part.

“Enough to be talking.” There was no malice in it, but although it was an obvious truth, (no real point in denying that), she hated him for pointing it out at this particular moment, and he clearly saw it in her.

_It hadn’t always been this way, and that’s what hurt the most._

“And who’s fault would you say it is that we don’t do that anymore?” If her face hadn’t already betrayed her, her voice did. Her tone couldn’t have been sharper if she tried but Jon merely sighed.

“That did not come out the way I meant it, though I won’t deny I earned that.”

“Okay.” He studied her carefully.

"You know what? Fuck it.”

"What?"

“So what if we’re not like the others. I may be an idiot, but I’ve missed you so much.” He took a deep breath. “Truly.”

No, they were definitely not like the others and probably never could be again, but she tried not to think about it anymore. Nine years had passed since that summer and life had a tendency to go on no matter what you wanted.

But now she was drunk and annoyed and allowing herself to let out some of her usually concealed bitterness, even if the red warning lights had gone off in her head and were screaming at her that it was a horrible idea. And yet...

“Nobody sings when you’re away, it’s too quiet.” Whether she wanted it or not, there was a warm tingle in her cheeks and her glare softened a fraction, because god knew just how much she’d wanted to get back to the way things had been.

Of course, the thought of that was even worse than her previous ideas.

"I’ve missed you too." And she meant it, though the stinging feeling in her chest still remained. It really wasn’t fair that he could turn her around like this. “Probably more than you’d expect.”

The tension was enough to make her feel a little sick, and when he responded his words didn’t quite match his eyes but that’s what nine years of avoiding a subject did to you.

“Don’t be ridiculous, we’re family. Or so you all keep insisting.” His smile wasn’t quite right either, but he’d graciously offered her a way out of the conversation. Smalltalk. Neutral ground, space to breathe, call it what you will and she really ought to take it.

“Well, now we're home again, even if it took us long enough.”

"Yes we are."

And thus they had come full circle. It would have been perfectly acceptable to leave right about now without anything being awkward about it, at least in theory.

_But they didn’t._

_Neither of them made any attempt to go._

In a not so discreet way they turned to look at each other and just _knew_ that the unnamed thing kept them standing there, shoulder to shoulder in the middle of a late freezing autumn night.

She wanted to ask him about it, and since he hadn’t left she dared to hope he wanted it too.

She nudged her shoulder gently against his.

“Hey you.”

“Yes?” He sounded almost out of breath.

“If I say a thing and it turns out to be messy, which honestly it probably _will be_ considering our current state...” She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. “...and if we remember it tomorrow, could we pretend as though we both had a blackout from here on?”

He turned his face toward her, just a bit too close for it to be proper.

“Depends.” She shrugged.

“If you don’t agree to it I’m not going to say _anything.”_

“Alright.” And he pulled away a little, as if catching himself. “Possible blackout starting now.”

"Good.” She sucked in a shivering breath. “That time.” He didn’t seem surprised but still stiffened noticeably. “You know which one I mean.”

“Yes.” His tone changed, a tad of apprehension. “Yes I know which one.”

Sansa felt as though her heart was made of glass, as if it was fragile enough to risk shattering with every beat. She needed reassurance but all she found in his eyes was a brittle mirror, though perhaps there was a sort of comfort in that as well.

“We never talked about it.”

“No.” He turned his face away and she felt so very tired. “And it’s long ago now.”

“I want to talk about it.”

“We should, I just don’t know what to say. It’s been ages, I honestly never thought you’d want to bring it up and I never...” But he did turn back to her again. _“We were still kids when it happened.”_

“Teenagers.”

_“Still.”_

_“Jon.”_ He took another deep breath.

“Sorry.” The relief she’d felt in the beginning about the fact that they finally let it out was slowly being replaced with a fear of having done more damage than if they’d simply left it alone. “I know.”

She was fairly certain that the list of people who had seen him in this state was very short, he was always so damn composed. But she had a mean streak she rarely let out, and when alcohol was involved...

“Jon, it was just a kiss.” That wasn’t even an understatement, _it was a blatant_ _lie_ _and she knew it,_ there’d been nothing _“just”_ about anything back then. Part of her had really wanted to hurt him for everything he’d put them through but she’d regretted it as soon as she said it. Unfortunately it was already written clearly enough on his entire person that she’d succeeded.

“Just a-” He ran a hand over his eyes, attempting to hide some of the hurt he so obviously felt. “Yeah, okay.” Sansa wished the earth to swallow her whole. “Let’s assume that’s the truth, shall we?” And there was a broken, distant something in his voice that was completely new to her. “Yes, for a moment, let’s pretend. Why bring it up at all?”

“Because I’m drunk and I miss you and I’m so sick of this. _I want my friend back.”_ Her voice was cracking and she felt frustrated enough to cry. “You said you missed me too, isn’t it worth a shot?” But she didn’t trust herself any further than that.

This wasn’t the way she’d meant for things to go but it felt too late to pull out now. In any case, there was little left to lose.

He pulled out and lit another cigarette, a slight tremble to his hands.

“I owe you so much more than this.” And there was the guilt up front at last. “And I want to do right by you.” He took a deep drag and filled his lungs and she had to hold back her reflex to tell him to quit.

“When did you start?”

“What?”

“Smoking.” He thought about it for a moment and laughed softly.

“First year I was gone.” She shook her head at him.

_“God_ you’re hopeless.” He shrugged.

“I get that a lot.” But when he offered it to her she took it, felt his heat against her freezing fingers as it passed between them, stained it red with her lips before she returned it. He stole a quick glance at her mouth before they caught their breaths again. “Must be some truth to it.”

“Do you ever think about it?” There was no power left in her and the way he looked at her left her feeling so incredibly confused.

He let out a sigh that seemed to contain the entirety of his soul and his face was plastered with a strange, disbelieving smile that didn’t quite reach his glowing eyes.

  
  


_It had been their final summer together before Jon and Robb went off to college. There’d been a dreary, nauseating sense of finality to it, and the thought of them being gone tended to overshadow all they did to some degree, or come in as a bitter afterthought._

_Arya had probably taken it the worst. Jon was her favourite person in the whole world and would tell anyone who cared to listen, and besides: the Starks were a tightly knit family, with Jon (and Theon, through some interesting circumstances), part of that in all but name._

  
  


“If I ever think about it…” 

  
  


_The thing was, with that same sense of finality came something reckless._

_From the moment she’d thought about them leaving she realized that she wasn’t going to miss Jon the same way she’d be missing Robb, and from the moment she’d known…_

_She’d never be sure who caught who looking at the other first, what mattered was that they had, and after that things wouldn’t go back to normal between them._

_And they didn’t need to make up excuses to be around each other, but they had. Excuses to stay up late after everyone else had gone to bed, to talk about things nobody else found interesting as to be left alone. Made sure to be together as much as possible, and when time started running out they almost didn’t care to hide it at all._

_With what little was left before he had to go, what did it matter anyways? A couple of weeks where the others noticed but never said a word, they all knew the rules. It would be over soon._

_Only her mother ever showed any quiet displeasure, but more in a worried kind of way. One night when Sansa was walking past her parents bedroom she’d heard her utter the word “heartbreak” in a very hushed voice, but that was it._

  
  


“Because I promise you Jon, I’ve thought about it. It wasn’t all bad, was it?”

  
  


_And then came the end of that last summer._

_On the night before they were to leave, Jon had come to her. She’d sat outside on the stone steps, thinking of nothing, refusing to let herself feel anything at all. He’d stopped a few feet from her, hands in his pockets, all dressed in black as per usual, looking at her as though it were the last time he’d ever see her again. It had felt entirely surreal and it still haunted her at times._

_She never asked him not to go, and he never said he wanted to stay._

_They’d miss each other but never specified what or why._

_He’d insured her that if ever she needed anything, to just talk, to take a break, they were only a phone call away and that she could always come visit and stay for as long as she liked and they would always be there for her, whatever the reason. They. Him and Robb. Always._

_Right then she couldn’t care less for her brothers name, she didn’t want to hear it, but she wasn’t all too sure of what she wanted to hear either._

_All she knew was that everything hurt and when it had hurt the most he’d walked up to her and she’d hugged him as close as she could, never wanting to let him go._

_He’d held her like that for an eternity until she’d decided to pull away, though she remained in his arms. And then, tenderly and ever so careful, he’d let his hands travel up over her arms, her shoulders, brush a lock of hair from her face. Kissed her, the sweetest kiss she’d ever felt._

_Though, not on the lips as she wished he might have done. He’d kissed her forehead just like everyone in their family did, but this was different and they both knew it. It was in the way their gaze locked, how they drew just a little closer before he decided to let her go and how much it hurt when he did. How it was too much but definitely not enough. How it left her numb and burning._

_It wasn’t something they’d ever done before, and never after._

  
  


They were staring at each other, breathless, wishing badly for the other to speak first but it took a long while until Jon dared to.

“I couldn’t stop it if I tried, and believe me Sansa, _I_ _have.”_ He gave her an incredulous look. “And of course it wasn’t all bad. For the longest time you were all the good things.”

There came a sound from the door and it made them both jump. Someone hung on the handle but let go again, seemingly changing their mind at the feel of the cold, and Sansa had rarely felt so grateful for anything in her life.

“I almost had a heart attack.” Jon hummed a response.

“So, um…” He cleared his throat. “I didn’t exactly plan for it to happen.” She put a hand against the wall behind her in an attempt to ground herself. 

“I’ll believe you on that, you looked about as shocked as I felt. _”_ And that same anger she’d felt earlier started seeping into her again. “ _But then_ _you walked away._ You left me with my emotions and questions and, and…” She didn’t glare at him, not really. She was hurt, and it tore at everything inside her even if her voice was blank as she spoke. “Nothing.”

“I regretted that I’d done it for years afterward.” Her eyes were suddenly burning but she did her best to ignore it.

“Kissing me or walking away?” The question pained him, it was easy enough to see.

“Both.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Either, it was difficult to tell sometimes.” And she felt so terribly, absolutely disappointed. She wanted to scream but allowed her bitterness to swell instead.

“Not sure what answer I expected but that really wasn’t it.” The cold felt twice as hard when she turned her body to face him.

“Wait, I need to tell you-”

“I hate it.”

She needed another drink.

_“Will you just hold on_.” Sansa shrugged.

“Sure.”

“Then give me a moment.”

“Of course.” Her heart was beating too fast.

“I loved what we had and I ruined it.” He sounded utterly heartbroken. “Don’t get me wrong, I really wanted something more _but I should have waited._ I was scared of way too many things: The distance, what your family would say, but not being good enough for you because of my broken background was probably at the top of the list.”

That last one hadn’t even crossed her mind and she didn’t really want to believe it. Never in her life had she associated him, (or Theon for that matter), with inadequacy.

“Not being good enough?” He barely raised his eyebrows.

“Come on Sansa, that can’t come as a surprise.” He gathered his thoughts for a moment. “I messed up and then I kept on making things even more difficult by behaving the way I did. And, here we are.”

“But my family _loves_ you. _Our_ family,” she corrected herself.

“Oh, not everyone is equally fond of me.” And she couldn’t really argue with him on that, because although her mother had let it pass that summer she wasn’t all that sure of any real blessing, and though she would have _liked_ to take for granted that the rest would be happy for them, she wasn’t as certain of it as she would have wished to be either.

“You should have said.” But her anger was almost completely gone, and none of it was really directed at him.

“Yes, I really should have.” She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, senses on edge, but kept her eyes on him. “I never meant to shut you out but it’s easier to just hide away when you’re scared. Especially when there was so much space between us already.”

“You needn't have been, you should have had more faith in us than that.” But he didn’t seem convinced, and she wasn’t all to sure she believed the words herself.

“Perhaps.” He shrugged. “But, confidence and so on. Or the lack of it, more like.”

“I mean I’ll never forgive you for falling off the face of the earth the way you did but I can understand.” She was pulling at her sleeve, a definitive sign that she was nervous but couldn’t seem to stop it. “Besides, I never contacted you either.”

“You don’t get to take any responsibility for this, it’s on me.” He was very final on that.

“Oh, I know. Still... I missed you like crazy.” She took a second to study his face, how exposed he looked, how that worried little line had deepened. “I still do sometimes, when I let myself.”

In a way it did feel better now. Not good, but better, although she wasn’t completely sure where they would go from here. So much time had passed it was difficult to really know anything but what she _did_ know was that she couldn’t bear to go back to not talking again.

She’d kept that feeling from all those years ago locked in her, never setting it free because part of her would always think there was a chance of at least becoming friends again. She _had_ to believe it or it would be too awful to keep seeing him, if nothing else he _was_ family and wasn’t going anywhere.

And now he looked so tired, as tired as she felt.

“You know, for as anxious as I always was about everything, I never once doubted how in love I was with you. All that other stuff, the thought of you would quiet them. I want you to know that.”

She didn’t have any idea of what to say but figured that just this once, it was perfectly alright. 

“I was a shy mess." He sighed deeply. “An impulsive shy mess. What an _excellent_ combination, what could possibly go wrong?”

“You still are.” They shared a careful smile, emotionally exhausted.

No words can ever really make up for what had been lost but right now things felt _almost_ acceptable. They _were_ trying the best they could to mend it, and the look they gave each other was enough for some measure of reassurance.

“Every time I tried to contact you I’d shut down and after a while I told myself you’d just resent me, or that you’d forgotten about me, or that your family would hate it.” Sansa shrugged.

“Well, it’s out now. And I don’t know about you but I think it feels a lot better.” He nodded, a hint of relief on his features, shoulders not quite as tight together anymore and it settled in her as well.

“I think so.”

“And we should have gotten drunk together much sooner. Had I known it would made us talk I’d have found a way to set it up ages ago.” But there was an unmistakable streak of sadness in her voice and it didn’t pass him by, and he pushed his shoulder a little against hers. Her eyes were burning again.

“I feel like I’ve lost a lifetime with you.” She wiped at the corners of her eyes but there was nothing there. “I’d do anything to get it back.”

“Let’s not lose anymore, I can’t stand it.”

“Whatever makes you happy.” He said it as if it were a single word.

“You know…” She thought back to that kiss and wondered, (with some anger and frustration), at how much consequence such a relatively small gesture could contain, and the secret of it that had been pushing them apart so needlessly long. It all seemed so strange to her now.

 _But it hadn’t been small,_ _and they wouldn’t be here to begin with if it hadn’t mattered. An even heavier thought was that it had never really stopped._

Whether it had been on purpose or not he’d been the first person to ever look at her that way, like he absolutely _adored_ her, and how could she ever be made to forget it?

And whether on not it had been on purpose on _her_ side, that look had been what she’d searched for in everyone else she’d ever loved after him, but nobody had even _come close_ and that was a tragedy in itself. Her voice was reduced to a near whisper as she spoke.

_“I felt it so well,_ _I carried the ghost of it for years.”_ It might have happened yesterday for how vivid her memory of it was. She felt so distant to this entire situation, their conversation, as if it was too surreal to be happening and she wanted to empty out all the things that had been hurting her. From the corner of her eye she saw him looking at her, but she kept her gaze straight into the darkness before them.

“If it helps, I’ve long since resigned myself to the fact that a part of me will always be in love with you.” He tried but couldn’t hide the sheer joylessness that came over him. “God knows I tried to let you go, but then I see you.” His turn to wipe at his eyes and the silence said the rest. “ _It’s insane. It’s been nearly a decade.”_

The clouds covering the moon drifted away and lit up the snow around them, their long blue shadows blending together, and without the protection of the dark everything seemed a bit too real for comfort. Fragile, but beautifully so.

“Jon?” She felt him quiver beside her.

“Yes?”

“Do you still regret it?” He shook his head, and for some reason she became very aware of the way she was breathing.

“Those are not the words I would choose.” He drew in a trembling breath and blinked hard a couple of times. “And you?”

In a great act of courage she managed to turn herself back to him, as surprised by the conviction in her voice as he was, but neither flinched.

“I just wish it would have happened differently.” No, there wasn’t much left to fear anymore.

“I’ll tell you this one last thing, then you can decide if you want to forget it or not.”

“Alright.”

He took a moment to collect himself, looked down at his hands then back up at her, earnest and vulnerable to a degree that it pulled tightly at her heartstrings.

“Sometimes when I see you, say, on a night like this.” And although his eyes were calm it did very little to soothe her. “I imagine what it would have been like if I hadn’t pulled away so harshly. If we’d still been close.” And just like that, his voice wasn’t all that even anymore. “If you would have wanted to keep me, had it lasted?”

Their breaths were coming out in thin wisps of smoke and Sansa wasn’t sure if her senses were functioning properly. Her mouth had gone dry and a cold wind sent chills running down her spine, biting at her skin.

“But I really shouldn’t be having these thoughts after so long.” _Oh, she was so done with this._

_“Who cares?”_ She reached out her hand to him and he took it, and she couldn't breathe and now he looked at her like that again... As though the rest of the world _didn’t exist,_ as though she was _made of sugar,_ and gods knew if it wasn’t everything she’d ever wanted. _“You absolutely hopeless man.”_ But she let her eyes linger on his lips, and he noticed.

“Well, yes.” And at last he smiled in full again, and it put that special happiness in her she’d missed so much. “For your information, if you _had_ still wanted me I would have kissed you all the time.” His voice was made of warm summer nights and hushed conversations and stolen glances and sitting just a little too close and being _so in love_ that her heart almost burst. “And I think I’d know how to kiss you, hold you in my hands and almost close my eyes, and I’ve always wondered, would you close yours?”

For a while they just stood there, frozen in place, shivering and blushing. (Or was it the cold that painted roses on their cheeks? They would never know for sure).

Sansa looked down at their hands and let him go. After all, he needed it free, and a smile played at the edge of her lips.

“Come find out.”

She took a few steps out and felt him follow, turned to him and realized that in so many ways they were just the same as they’d ever been. As though this moment had been kept for them, just waiting for them to find it.

They stopped somewhere in the middle of the yard, everywhere surrounded by the moonlit snow. Still tipsy, blissful, smiling like the fools they were. Smiles they’d only ever kept for each other.

There was a moment when the world stood perfectly still and all she knew was the beating of her heart, how warm his hands felt against her jaw and how she would surely die if she didn’t get what she wanted.

“I want to do it right.”

He held her in the kind of dreamy gaze you don’t really believe exist outside of cinema until it finds you, overwhelming the senses with a feeling of affection and intimacy almost beyond comprehension. But he was real. She put her arms around him and felt him exist just fine.

And then he did kiss her, finally. Warm, soft and with the utmost care, like it always ought to have been. It gave her the feeling of coming home, of finding something she didn’t know she’d lost. _Of euphoria._

She’d closed her eyes, (but only for a moment), and he hadn’t really closed his, (just like he’d said).

When they pulled away it was more because they needed to breathe than for any other reason, but they never let go. 

“Sansa stark, I am ridiculously in love with you.” And she kissed him again, because she very much wanted him to remain that way, and felt him smiling against her.

_“I don’t think I ever stopped.”_ She could only manage a whisper, but it was enough.

_“Thank god.”_

She looked up at him, ran her hands through his hair and allowed herself for just a moment to feel what it was like to do something as simple and as difficult as to love him. 

“Again.”

  
  
  
  
  


And there they remained, kissing beneath the stars for who knows how long.

(And both remembering everything in the morning)


End file.
